


We Strive to Welcome Change

by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, college professor au, series of One-shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8641033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/pseuds/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: “Professor Poe?” he asked cautiously.	The woman looked away from the shoes and turned to him.	“Call me Lenore. Everyone does,” she answered, a glowing smile on her face.--A series of one-shots following the romance of English Professor H.G. Wells and Theatre Professor Lenore Poe.





	1. Chapter 1

H.G. Wells tentatively stepped into the school's costume shop feeling very out of place amongst the buzz of activity around him. His eyes darted around, searching for anyone who looked like an authority. Finally one of the students approached him.

“Are you looking for someone?” she asked.

“Ah. Y-yes, do you know where I could find Professor Poe?”

“You mean Lenore? She's in the shoe closet pulling some boots. It's down this hallway, all the way at the end.” The girl pointed. “Everything's labeled, so you can't miss it. Just go on in.”

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding. The girl smiled at him as he walked toward the room she'd indicated.

He only hesitated for a second at the door before opening the door and entering the room that was, strictly speaking, too large to be labeled a closet. He was surrounded by shelves stacked with boxes all labeled with different styles of shoes. And in the middle of it all was a woman with dark brown hair in a white sundress and a pale blue sweater on top of a stepladder rummaging through a box, with several pairs of black leather boots littering the ground beneath her.

After a moment he caught himself staring and hastily cleared his throat.

“Professor Poe?” he asked cautiously.

The woman looked away from the shoes and turned to him.

“Call me Lenore. Everyone does,” she answered, a glowing smile on her face. “My brother Edgar also teaches here, so if we both went by professor it would be way confusing.” She stepped down the ladder with a practiced ease and he moved forward to offer his hand.

“H.G. Wells. I'm a professor in the English department.”

A curious look crossed her face as she shook his hand. “What does the HG stand for?”

He gave her a wry smile at the familiar question. “Oh, I couldn't possibly tell you. It's terribly embarrassing.” She let out a short laugh. It wasn't a delicate, polite laugh. It was a loud, unapologetic one. He felt his chest filling with warmth at the sound.

“Wait a minute, didn't you give a joint lecture last semester about time travel with that physics professor?” He could sense the heat rising in his cheeks as she spoke. “Yeah, it was definitely you. You brought out that model you made and everything.” His face was definitely flushing furiously with embarrassment at this point.

“Y-yes, well...” he stammered before trailing off. If she'd seen his lecture then she already knew how fervently he believed in the possibility of time travel. There was no denying it. He managed to glance back at her and was somewhat taken aback to see there was no malice or mockery in her face, just genuine warmth.

“That's totes cool,” she said, smoothly picking up the conversation. “To tell you the truth I wish I could build something like that model. I mean, I can sew like nobody's business, but building something like that...well, let's just say there's a reason the students make most of the props around here.” She shrugged. “So, HG, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Of course! The reason he'd come here in the first place. He'd nearly forgotten all about it.

“Oh, well I'm working on a story, you see, set during the Victorian era, and I realized that I needed a clearer picture of what the fashion of the time looked like, so Oscar, that is, Professor Wilde, recommended I come and request your aid.” He paused. “So if you perhaps have some reference books that I could borrow I can get out of your hair, as it were?” His hands fidgeted at his sides and he desperately wished he'd brought something to fiddle with.

Another warm grin spread across her face.

“That's no trouble at all,” she replied, giving his shoulder a light but reassuring squeeze. “I've got tons of reference material in my office. I can take you there right now.” She hesitated briefly to consider something. “Actually, could you help me move these first?” She gestured to the several pairs of boots lying on the floor around them. “We just need to bring these out to the green room and then we can get your books.”

He gave her a sheepish smile in return. “Of course.”

She loaded several pairs of boots into his arms before picking up the rest herself. They walked back towards the main area of the shop and Lenore directed him to place the boots in a corner of the room, before grabbing the attention of the girl who'd given him directions earlier.

“Eloise, the boots you wanted are over here. If you need anything we'll be in my office.” The girl gave a nod and a smile to show that she'd heard before turning back to her work.

“This way, HG,” she said, leading him to an office about halfway down the hallway.

Once inside she bustled over to a large shelf full of books and began deliberating over which ones to take, giving Wells time to examine the office. Nearly every wall and cabinet was covered in decoration. Most of these were posters from various shows, presumably ones that Lenore had worked on, judging by how many appeared to be signed by the whole cast, however there were also some prints of old fashion plates as well as modern fashion shoots.

One thing that stood out was a simple double picture frame. One of the pictures was of a gloomy young man in a black suit, shirt, and vest, with only a blood red tie providing a splash of color, standing next to a pale redheaded girl in a sea green dress. The other picture was of a younger Lenore in an extravagant white dress gazing lovingly at a young man in a gray suit, his blue tie matching the corsage pinned to her dress.

Lenore joined him at the desk, placing a stack of books on the table with a soft thud.

“If you don't mind my inquiry, what are these photographs?” Wells asked.

He received a wry smile in return. “Prom photos,” she replied. “That ball of angst is my brother Edgar. Standing next to him is my best friend, Annabel Lee. The stunning girl in the fab dress is me, of course. And that's Guy, the love of my life.” She fell silent, the ghost of a wistful look about her face.

“Ah.”

“That week,” she continued a bit too quickly. “Love of my life that week. ...We were in high school, we thought we'd take on the world together.”

“What happened? If you don't mind my asking, of course,” HG prompted.

Lenore sighed. “We drifted apart, wound up going to different colleges, found separate paths in life. The usual.”

“That's a shame,” he said without thinking, earning him a quizzical look from Lenore. “I mean, you look like you were very happy together.”

“We were,” she replied carefully. “But that's in the past. We're very different people now, it wouldn't have worked out anyway.”

“M-my apologies for prying,” he stammered.

“Yeah, well. I shouldn't keep the photo out if I don't want people to ask.” She gave him another wry smile, though this one wasn't as confident as the one earlier.

“Anyway, you wanted references for your story.”

Lenore explained why she'd picked out each book and slid the stack towards him. Then she plucked a business card out of the holder on her desk and handed it to him.

“Here. Now you've got my number, so feel free to let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thank you, I will.” he said, nodding.

She smiled at him. “And let me know if you ever want to get lunch some time. The cafe next door is surprisingly good.”

He smiled back at her. “I'll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

Silence fell over them as they held each other's gaze. Then after a moment Lenore sprang back into action, lifting the books back up and handing them to him.

“You're more than welcome to visit me if you're ever passing through the English department,” he invited as she placed the books in his arms.

“Totes. Feel free to drop in on me anytime...except Hell Week,” she added after a brief pause.

She opened the door for him then asked, “Can you find your way out of the shop from here?” 

“Yes, I should be able to manage.”

“Okay then. Don't be a stranger,” she said with a wink.

He managed to smile back at her before briskly walking away, hoping to hide his flushing face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HG's got it baaaad

Ernest Hemingway tried not to sigh yet again as H.G. Wells paced around Hemingway's office and continued to extol the virtues of the theatre professor Lenore.

 

“I think I might be in love with her, Ernest,” Wells declared, oblivious to his friend's boredom. “We seemed to connect instantly, and we have these beautifully thoughtful conversations that I never believed I could have with another person. She's genuinely curious about what I have to say, and I find her commentary absolutely fascinating. I feel like my brain is humming all the time when I'm with her.” His eyes grew unfocused as he lost himself in reminiscence.

 

Ernest resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the lovesick declaration.

 

“Then just tell her you're interested in her,” he grumbled. “Don't stand here pining away. Take action!”

 

HG snapped out of his reverie.

 

“I couldn't possibly do that!” he exclaimed.

 

“Why not?!” Ernest replied, exasperated.

 

“W-well, what if she doesn't feel the same way? What if I've been reading the signs all wrong?” HG stammered. “I wouldn't want to lose her friendship over something like this...”

 

Hemingway sighed.

 

“Alright poindexter, let's examine this piece by piece.”

 

Wells made a face halfway between a grimace and a pout at the nickname, but Hemingway ignored him.

 

“She made a point to tell you that old boyfriend was out of her life, right?”

 

“She only did that-” Wells began to protest.

 

“Right,” Hemingway cut him off. “She gave you her number, invited you to lunch, told you to visit her whenever, and _winked at you_.”

 

“Maybe she's just friendly.” Wells demurred.

 

This time Ernest did roll his eyes.

 

“HG, a woman does not wink at a man she just invited to lunch to be friendly.” He decided to try a different tack.

 

“Alright, HG. How many times in the past two weeks since you met her have you eaten lunch together?”

 

Wells glanced at the other man through the corner of his eyes before dropping his gaze back to the ground. He took a deep breath before answering, “Six times.”

 

“And how many times has she dropped by your office even though the English department is out of her way?” Ernest continued.

 

“Three times,” Wells answered quietly. “B-but her brother works here! She was probably just passing by after visiting him.”

 

“Yeah, death and poetry Edgar, definitely who she's going out of her way for.” He sighed. “Look, if you can't straight up tell her you're interested, why not ask her on a date? Go see a movie or take a walk around the campus or something? Just get that date-like atmosphere so she knows you're interested.”

 

“I don't think...” he protested weakly, his sentence trailing off.

 

“I know!” Hemingway exclaimed. “The play should be opening soon. Ask her if you could go to that with her.”

 

Wells made a noncommittal noise.

 

“What show are they doing now anyway?”

 

“Much Ado About Nothing,” Wells murmured.

 

“Shakespearean comedy, perfect!”

 

“But what if you're wrong!” Wells shouted, arms flailing wildly. “What if I make an absolute fool of myself and can never speak to her again without this utter humiliation hanging over my head?”

 

“Whoa, whoa!” Hemingway leaped up and grabbed the other man by the shoulders, trying to still him. “Look, this isn't 5 th grade where you dip a girl's braid in a paint jar and she never lets you live it down. You're both adults. You'll handle this like adults. Okay? Now breathe.” He waited till the other man relaxed before releasing his grip. When he was confident that the other was calm he spoke again, “Besides, worst case you'll have great motivation to build that time machine of yours.” Wells gave a shaky smile in response. “Why are you getting so worked up anyway? Just stay calm and you should be fine.”

 

“That's easier said,” Wells answered softly. “I feel like my heart will burst just from-”

 

Whatever else he was going to say died at the knock on the door. Hemingway glanced briefly at his companion before walking over and opening it.

 

“Ah, Lenore,” he said by way of greeting. “What brings you to my humble office?” He stepped back allowing her to enter. Wells's eyes darted to her face and he gave half a smile and an awkward wave before his gaze quickly darted away again.

 

“HG actually,” she replied. “I was on my way to his office when I heard him in here.” Though her voice held no judgment and her expression was pleasant Wells could feel the blush rising rapidly across his face.

 

“O-oh?” he managed to stammer. “Did you need something from me?”

 

“I was just wondering if you'd maybe like to get dinner together next Wednesday.” She kept her eyes trained on HG although they occasionally flickered away nervously every now and then.

 

He started at her invitation, his eyes jumping to meet hers. “B-but isn't next Wednesday Much Ado's private opening? Don't you need to be there?”

 

This time her gaze shifted to a bookshelf slightly to the side of his head, and there was a slight hint of color on her cheeks. “I was thinking we could go to that after dinner. If you want?” Her voice sounded almost hesitant.

 

“I would be delighted to join you!” he answered quickly, rushing over to stand before her. “I was just thinking of making the same invitation to you.” A soft smile spread across his face as he held her gaze.

 

“So...it's a date?” she asked slowly, as if she needed reassurance that this was real.

 

With uncharacteristic boldness he took one of her hands in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

 

“Definitely,” he whispered, worried his voice would give out if he spoke with more force. He offered her a tender look, which she met with one of her own. He was simultaneously drawn in by her eyes and held still by his nerves, nerves which were starting to fade in the face of the evidence of her feelings. He couldn't tell how long they stared like that before Ernest awkwardly coughed and reminded the pair of his presence. They sprang apart immediately.

 

“I'll text you with the details tonight,” she said before retreating towards the door.

 

“Sounds perfect,” he replied. “And, Lenore?” She paused and turned back towards him. “I'm looking forward to it.” A giddy smile crossed her face and her cheeks flushed, then she left the office and was gone.

 

Wells sighed happily to himself as Hemingway walked over and clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“What did I tell you, HG? She likes you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World Building:  
> Ernest Hemingway - English Professor, he often teaches basic Composition classes. He and Wells live in the same apartment building and are actually surprisingly good friends.  
> Edgar Allan Poe - English Professor, his main classes are Poetry 101 and Writing Horror, shares a house with his sister, Lenore.
> 
> References:  
> "Much Ado's private opening" - my college's theatre department shows had a special performance before the public opening that was only open to theatre students and professors so I used that here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween cuteness and fluff (and Edgar shows up). I hope you guys enjoy!

Oscar Wilde's Halloween Party for University Staff was an event that Lenore eagerly anticipated every year. It not only gave her the chance to dress up, but she also got to help her brother with his costume. This year had granted her the added treat of also helping HG as well.

HG himself had just arrived at the shared house of the Poe siblings and knocked to announce his arrival. The door swung open to reveal Edgar wearing a hooded gray robe splattered with bloodstains, and his face made up to look halfway between a corpse and a skeleton with bloody tear stains dripping from his eyes.

HG sprang backwards in alarm before recognition set in. He wore an open jacket over a double-breasted vest, which paired with a small leather satchel and a strange set of goggles, clearly indicated that he was dressed as some sort of steampunk character.

“What on Earth are you supposed to be?” he asked the gruesome man in the doorway. Edgar gave a gloomy smile, the sort he'd long ago perfected.

“The looming specter of death, which takes all in the end.” Wells raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. Edgar sighed and then stepped back to allow him into the house.

“Lenore is upstairs. She said she'd be down...soon.” His tone implied he expected her to take much longer.

“I suppose I should go check on her...?” While HG had visited the house once before, he and Lenore had stayed in the living room for their movie night, so he wasn't familiar with the layout of the rest of the house.

“Mm,” Edgar replied. “Yes, her room is up the stairs, make a right, and the first door on your right.” Wells nodded his thanks and headed further into the house.

Lenore's room was exactly where her brother said. He could hear her muttering to herself inside, and he could hear how that immediately stopped when he knocked.

“Lenore?” he called out. “Are you ready?” The door quickly swung open.

“HG!” she exclaimed, pulling him in for a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. After she released him she took a moment to examine his appearance. “You look fantastic! I told you the double-breasted vest was the way to go.”

He smiled sheepishly at her and answered, “Well, you're the fashion historian. Who am I to question your expertise?”

“Damn straight.” She crossed her arms, but her grin revealed how delighted she was. “Those goggles look amaze!” she gushed. “Did you decorate them?”

“It was quite easy, actually,” he replied, blushing lightly. “It's mostly paint and some glue.”

“Still,” she answered. Her tone made it clear that she would accept no arguments.

He finally had a moment to take her in. She was wearing a large wedding gown in an older style with a veil pinned in her hair. Only the makeup giving her face a deathly pallor gave a hint that this was a Halloween costume.

“You look especially radiant,” he confessed, “but we've only been dating a few weeks. Aren't you moving a little fast?” He managed to keep his tone light, so it would be clear that he was teasing, but he also gave her a sly smile just to be safe.

His reward was her unapologetic laughter filling the hallway with its joy.

“Don't give me ideas, HG.” She grinned wickedly at him. “Anyway, I'm the ghost of a woman struck down on her wedding day.” He raised an eyebrow.

“And how, if you don't mind my asking, did you move on to the other side?”

“Mystery illness.” She shrugged. “Happens all the time, even to us hot people.” He licked his lips nervously.

“And your fiance?” he asked hesitantly.

She gave him a quizzical look, but still answered, “Killed himself in grief. Very romantic. Very tragic.” A mischievous smile grew on his face.

“Then, my dear Lenore, would you allow this humble inventor the honor of escorting you to the gala this evening?” He offered his hand, which, after a moment's pause, she took.

“You're ridiculous,” she replied, laughing, before pulling him in for a light kiss.

“Now,” she announced, quickly reaching back into the room and pulling out a bundle of fake flowers, “bouquet or no bouquet?”

“Depends,” he returned, “who is going to carry it the whole evening?” She met this with a chuckle.

“Well, one of us decided to bring a bag...soooo...” He sighed and shook his head, acknowledging his loss, before grabbing her hand.

“We should go. Your brother is probably getting anxious.”

“He's always anxious,” she muttered as she let Wells lead her downstairs.

They arrived at the party within the realm of fashionably late. Oscar rushed over to greet them, and he almost managed not to grin smugly at the sight of Lenore and Wells entering arm in arm. Edgar quickly separated himself from the couple and joined the other English professors who'd already arrived. Oscar cooed over Lenore's dress briefly before flouncing off.

“Why do you have a wedding dress anyway?” HG whispered to her as they strolled towards Lenore's colleagues in the Theatre department.

“I needed it for a show,” she answered easily, “then kept it for my personal collection. Same story with that jacket you're wearing. Now I have access to the school's costume stock, but when I was working for various different theatre companies it was handy to have my own collection to dip into from time to time, especially with the smaller ones.”

They wandered around. Lenore introduced HG to her colleagues and HG introduced introduced Lenore to his. With the initial round of hellos complete, the pair made their way to a bench a little bit out of the way.

“Oh!” HG exclaimed, suddenly remembering. “There's something I want to show you.” He reached into his satchel and brought out a very old fashioned looking camera. However the camera itself looked fairly new and the steampunk style decorations gave a hint to where it had come from. HG pressed a button and it sprang to life.

“Did you...build a digital camera?” Lenore asked, amazed.

“It was a kit,” he demurred. “But I did most of the work on the shell.” He handed it over to her, grinning at how he'd managed to render her speechless.

She turned it around in her hands, observing the detailing. Then she pulled him in and snapped a picture of them together.

“So how many filters does this thing have?” she teased.

A look of puzzlement crossed his face.

“I...I don't know actually. I barely had a chance to test it.”

“Well anyway, it's totally fab.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You can keep it,” he offered. “I don't really use a camera that often.” She looked at him seriously.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“You're sure?” she confirmed. He let out a small laugh.

“Lenore, I wouldn't have offered if I wanted it back.” She kissed him soundly on the mouth.

“I'm going to go mingle, if you don't mind?” she said, springing from her seat.

He nodded and answered, “That's fine. I think I'll get some food and then join the rest of my department.” She smiled at him, then wordlessly handed over her bouquet. He sighed and tucked it into his bag while she ran off still clutching the camera.

So the evening proceeded. Wells found himself sitting next to Hemingway, listening to the conversations flowing around him.

This was interrupted by Lenore dashing across the room to his side, slipping the camera into his bag, and quickly proclaiming, “This is my favorite song! Please come dance with me.” He excused himself from the group and let her guide him to the dance floor, Ernest's joking exclamation of “Duty calls!” falling behind them.

He followed her lead, letting her choose the moves as they created a dance together, the smile on her face matching his own. Eventually the song ended and was replaced with a slow waltz. She was about to thank him and leave the floor, when he offered her his hand.

“I don't know how to waltz,” she warned. Wells chuckled.

“What dances did you learn in the theatre instead then?” he asked teasingly. She took his hand and he guided her into position.

“Box Step and kicklines mainly.” He smiled warmly at her.

“Just follow my lead and you should be fine,” he advised, as he walked her through the basic step.

She managed to mostly keep up with him through the dance, but as the song ended he pulled her into a close embrace. He took a deep breath and whispered, “I love you, Lenore.”

She pulled back and stared at him, a smile slowly growing on her face.

“I love you too, HG,” she replied. Then she pulled him in for a kiss, slow and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:  
> Edgar's Halloween Costume - The Red Death from The Masque of the Red Death


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HG spends the night and there is cute, domestic fluff. There is a make out session, but no smut.

This was the most spontaneous date they'd ever had. Lenore had dropped by HG's office and asked him if he had any plans for the evening. When he answered that he didn't, she'd said, all in a rush, “You should come over for dinner. Edgar's going away for the weekend.”

And that was all the planning it had taken for HG to show up on her doorstep with a suitcase in hand, just to be prepared. She'd made soup, and after dinner they migrated to the couch, where conversation had given way to action.

He'd leaned over and kissed the corner of her mouth, but when he tried to pull back she'd grabbed his tie to bring him back in. This time for a long and slow kiss.

That brought them to this moment. Her hands began to slide down his vest, before stopping at his waist. He took the hand that wasn't keeping him balanced and caressed her cheek.

The couch was starting to feel small and limiting. HG considered asking if they could relocate to her bed, but moving to a bed held implications he wasn't prepared to address and could lead to an escalation in their relationship sooner than he was ready for. After all, they'd only been dating for less than two months. While that may have been plenty of time for some people, he wanted to take his time and not jump into anything before he was ready. Before they were ready. He wanted this to be perfect.

As they kissed she guided him back into an upright position, and he placed his freed hand on her waist, then she broke off the kiss.

“Can I take off your shirt?” she asked, her face flushing already. The instant he nodded she was pulling off his tie and undoing his vest with a practiced hand. She pushed them aside and started working on the shirt with just as much speed. He watched the determination on her face be washed away by an exasperated groan as she finished unbuttoning his shirt, only to find an undershirt beneath.

He chuckled lightly and shrugged out of his outer layers, pushing them onto the floor, before he tugged the final offending shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Her hands immediately began running across his chest, exploring the newly exposed skin. He shuddered under her attention. His fingers flirted with the hem of her shirt, dipping to caress the skin beneath.

“May I...?” he whispered shakily, sliding his hand under her shirt as clarification. She smirked at him and pulled the garment off and threw it across the room, revealing a simple white bra with some lace details.

He slid his hand slowly up her side, feeling the softness and warmth of her skin beneath his hands. It was as if he could feel her vibrancy, her life radiating from within her. He needed to tell her, he needed her to know just how precious she was to him.

“You are so incredible,” he said reverently, her hands tenderly stroking his back. His other hand found its way to her jaw and guided her into a kiss, warm and loving. They remained there, wrapped in each other for an instant and an eternity.

The clock chiming the hour was what startled them apart.

“I didn't realize it was that late,” she murmured. She looked as if she'd just been woken from a spell.

“Time just slipped away from us,” he replied softly, his hand still caressing her cheek. They started to fall back into each other's eyes when Lenore let out a yawn and HG soon followed. They pulled away, wearing matching sheepish looks.

“I-I can sleep on the couch,” HG stated. Lenore's hand tentatively reached out and found his.

“Or you could share my bed,” she offered. “No sex, no pressure. But there would probably be some kissing and there would definitely be cuddling.” She smiled warmly at him.

“I think I can handle that.” He grinned at her.

She stood and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Get changed into whatever you're sleeping in and meet me in my room.” He nodded and she dashed away and up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Wells knocked tentatively on the door of Lenore's bedroom, wearing a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He'd barely pulled his hand away when the door swung open, revealing Lenore wearing a large Les Misérables t-shirt and shorts that just barely peaked out from underneath it.

“Hey,” she greeted, her eyes quickly flitting up and down, taking him in.

“H-hello,” he answered, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Come on in.” She stepped back, allowing him to enter.

Her room was fairly spacious although the sloped ceiling made it feel smaller. HG followed her past a full-length mirror and a desk covered in make-up, to a queen sized bed. The bed itself didn't look that intimidating. It had a blue and white comforter and two pillows, it was actually fairly plain looking, but because it was hers he hesitated.

She looked back at him from the edge of the bed and sighed.

“It's just a bed, HG,” she teased. “It has no more power than you give it.”

He advanced cautiously to her side. She gazed up at him as her hand ran down his arm and coaxed one of his out of the pocket it had been hiding in.

“You,” she began with a look of determination aimed squarely at him, “are going to get in this bed, and we'll cuddle until we fall asleep.” She paused and then, with a voice that would accept no arguments, added, “It'll be very cute.”

He gave her a small, lopsided smile.

“Alright. Very well,” he conceded. He walked around to the other side of the bed and gave her a bemused look, which she returned with one of her own. They both slid underneath the covers and Lenore turned off the the light on the nightstand. After a few moments of shuffling around they settled with Lenore resting her head on his chest. He pet her hair, gradually slowing until he drifted off.

He awoke the next morning pressed against her shoulder, with the feeling of tender fingers running through his hair. He stirred slightly and received a kiss on the top of his head.

“You awake?” Lenore asked softly.

He mumbled some kind of response and nuzzled closer. Her light chuckle faded as he slid back into sleep.

When he woke up again the bed was empty. He jolted up and looked around the room.

“L-Lenore?” he called out, trying to keep the rising panic out of his voice. His mind was whirling, overthinking. Already it was coming up with countless terrible explanations for the situation.

A door he hadn't noticed last night swung open, revealing Lenore, still in her pajamas, hair pulled back into a lazy ponytail. She was in the middle of brushing her teeth, but she offered him a smile and held up a finger to signal him to wait. She darted back into the bathroom for a brief moment before coming back to the bedroom and giving him a slow and tender kiss, the taste of mint making his lips tingle.

“Good morning, HG,” she purred, her hand caressing his cheek.

He grinned at her and returned the greeting. She recoiled slightly, her nose twitching.

“Bleh, morning breath,” she complained. Her thumb still stroking his face reassured him that it wasn't a serious problem.

“Mmm,” he replied, still careful to keep his smiling mouth shut.

“Tell you what,” she offered, her eyes sparkling, “you take care of that while I go make breakfast. Poached eggs with toast sound good?” He nodded and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the room.

A few minutes later he entered the kitchen. There was Lenore. She was humming while she loaded the food onto plates. He walked over and pressed a kiss to her cheek as his arm naturally wrapped loosely around her waist.

“It smells delicious,” he complimented. “Do you have any tea?” She paused in her movements and looked up at him.

“There should be a few boxes in that cabinet.” She pointed. “We've got English Breakfast, Earl Gray, and a couple of fruit teas.” He thanked her and gave her a quick kiss.

They ate in comfortable silence, an unspoken love filling the space between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I really appreciate all the support I got while writing this. Hopefully my muse will strike again so I can keep contributing to this fandom.

**Author's Note:**

> World Building:  
> H.G. Wells - English Professor, his main classes are Creative Writing and Writing Science Fiction, sometimes shows episodes of Doctor Who or Star Trek (from the Time Travel collection, of course) in class.  
> Lenore Poe - Theatre Professor, teaches Costume Design and History of Fashion, helps run the costume shop and aids the students designing the shows.  
> Oscar Wilde - Technically an English professor, but his classes are all theatre-focused, so he spends a lot of time with that department. His main classes are Writing for the Stage and Shakespeare 1 and 2.
> 
> References:  
> Eloise - named in reference to the Eloi in The Time Machine  
> Hell Week - the week before a show opens


End file.
